The Boy Come Home
by gorenrocks
Summary: Bobby Goren is emotionally affected by the events in the episode Gemini, more then he lets on, and he reflects on his past. Alex realizes he is suffering and tries to help him. Some B/A. Post ep Gemini. Rated T for one bad word.


**The Boy Come Home**

**Big spoiler - Episode Gemini. Warning - one bad word**.

"He's a screw up. He's always been a screw up," said Anderson.

Goren had forced himself to stay still. To not react to Spencer Anderson's carelessly blurted words about his schizophrenic brother, Brent Anderson. Goren's days with his mom and nights with his dad had taught him to block most physical sensations, like the cramps that now squeezed his limbs, until the pain reached his ankles. And the white-hot flare that sliced across his frontal lobe like a scalpel. He'd walked away quietly, revealing nothing. He tried to stretch to ease the soreness of tensed muscles, but nothing helped the ache in his heart.

_He's a screw up... Bobby's always been a screw up..._

Shouted, whispered, spoken with confident authority, told to teachers and counselors and shrinks, the words had gutted him. There were variations on the message, but they had the same meaning.

How often did a child need to hear a declaration for it to become his reality? Or how many realities could a child create to escape one that he couldn't endure? So maybe that's why Goren had invented the fiction he glibly told Brent Anderson, that Goren's own brother was stiff and straight laced because his father never gave Frank an inch. Was that one of Bobby's fantasies? He couldn't remember, there were so many. Fantasy got him through those fierce years, even if it was only in his mind.

"The twisted tango of brotherly love." Goren thought of his brother Frank, wondered if he was alive. If he slept on the streets, or shacked up with a woman, or found a shelter to rest in, Bobby simply didn't know. Frank Goren had fucked up his life with gusto, no holds barred.

Then there was his own internal bundle of unresolved tensions, from the heaps of past abuse and neglect, that blindsided Goren at the most unexpected moments. Sometimes his worst fear came true, and they clouded his judgment. Bobby and Frank - they both floundered in a private hell few knew existed and no one understood. Was one hell worse than the other? Bobby doubted it.

"Yeah, he may be crazy, but you're evil." Goren had come down hard on Spencer Anderson, and he felt no guilt for it. But it had cost him, and he was still paying; he didn't know for how long.

Bobby finished the beer - his second - and threw a few bills on the bar. He pulled off his already loosened tie, shoved it in his pocket and then turned to leave the little tavern. She had been standing behind him and that's when he nearly knocked her down.

"Eames! What are you doing here?" He held her shoulders to steady her, watching her study him.

"I was looking for you, Bobby."

He dropped his arms. "I'm leaving."

"I'll go with you."

He barreled out of the crowded bar, not waiting for her, annoyed, grateful, confused. He'd been careful. She shouldn't be here. It was getting harder to conceal from her.

Once outside, the door closed behind him, and she wasn't there. He considered racing off; he could easily outrun her.

_Damn it!_

He leaned back against the stone wall next to the entry, waiting. She burst out of the bar, breathless, and he grabbed her, pulling her against him. Her long strands of hair were impossibly mussed and she was flushed with anger. Bobby grinned then, thinking he'd never seen her look lovelier, and he let her go. She moved back and glared at him but her features softened, and she stayed nestled in the crook of his arm. He let one hand curl lightly around her neck.

"Jesus, Goren! What the hell was that? You like playing hide and seek now?" She stared up at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

Eames hesitated a beat.

"Back at work, you wouldn't look at me."

"Well I just-- I mean--"

"You thought that I wouldn't notice?" She fingered his jacket, poking a slender finger through the button hole. "Bobby, when you get this somber, I get the most scared."

He couldn't say anything, literally, because the pressure in his chest was so dense, he could scarcely breathe. But he could nod, and he did. She reached for his hand, which had been clutching at the soft skin between her shoulder blades, and held it.

"Lets go home, Bobby."

Goren let her help him get home, though it wasn't strictly necessary, it was needed, for them both. He couldn't eat, so he showered and changed into dark sweats and a black tee while she heated soup for her dinner.

When he was done, Eames headed to the bathroom to do the same. She had comfy clothes at his place to hang out and sleep in, and Bobby knew she would stay with him through the night. He used to puzzle why she did this for him, but the reason was so simple, once he let it in. Alex did it because she loved him, just as he loved her. He didn't know exactly what he meant to her, but she was his survival.

Sprawled lengthwise on his big sofa, Goren's thoughts had wandered to a bad place, one where Alex was gone. Though he knew it was anxiety of the day and the emergence of memories about his brother Frank, and his mother and father, Bobby felt the burning in his chest followed by the a crushing weight. Instinctively he covered his face with his hands to block out the pain and protect himself from long ago harm.

"Bobby. Bobby, please," she soothed.

Soft and cool, her hands brushed atop his, making no attempt to move them.

"Breathe, Bobby."

Her fingers, so small, maneuvered under his hands, just enough to touch his cheeks, with strokes more tender than any lover he'd ever had. He closed his hands around hers and lifted them, turning to look at her kneeling on the floor next to him.

She looked fresh, and so delicate, wearing just his big white t-shirt, but he knew better. He'd plunged the depths of her strength in the darkness of his despair. Even her trembling lips evidenced courage he did not have, and trust he did not understand. Trust in him enough to bare her soul, knowing he would protect her - her pain, her fear, her love for him. Faith that he would lock her secrets in his heart, forever.

One tear slid down her perfect blush cheek. He wiped it with his thumb, and she closed her eyes.

"Come here," he whispered.

Between them she made her way next to him and fell into his arms. He was big but she was small and they fit just right on his wide, soft-cushioned couch. She scrunched her face in his neck and he held her very tightly. She smelled like ripe fruit and spice, and holding her was his greatest pleasure in life. There could be more, might be more, but all would be with her, and he would not permit it.

"Bobby, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, Eames."

"Can you tell me, tell me what happened?"

She pulled back, and he eased his tight grip on her enough to scan her face, so serious, both cheeks damp now. Her lower lip slightly plump from her gnawing at it. She wanted him. He wanted her, desperately. He couldn't have her, though, except for moments like these.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

He meant more than just he couldn't explain, and he knew she knew it.

"It's okay, Bobby. I know."

"I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry."

And he pulled her tight against his body, her face rubbing soft on his neck, her breasts warm and full pressed on his chest, her hand slipped under his tee, rubbing his belly. He restricted his hands to safe turf, not that there really was such a thing. Goren could control his needs, he'd been controlling his urges his entire life, since before his mother's illness. His home was never normal, his world never sane. He could do this, would do whatever he had to do, to keep her in his life.

Because she wouldn't love him if she knew. Knew what a real screw up he was.

_"The tango just goes on."_

_--Alexandra Eames_

**a/n Thanks for reading! **


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